Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Subways
The 7 train rumbling through Queens rattled Lena’s teeth, a jarring contrast to the plush, soundproofed silence of the Manhattan penthouse she had left forty minutes ago.
She pressed her forehead against the cool, graffiti-scratched window of the subway car, watching the blurry lights of Long Island City streak past in a smear of neon and rain. Her hands were still slightly trembling. Every time she closed her eyes, she didn't see the dark tunnels or hear the screech of the brakes; she saw Min-jun Kang standing three feet away from her in the dark, smelling of smoke and vetiver, telling her she wasn't fired.
Why?
It was the only question looping through her brain.
Men like Min-jun didn't keep people around who insulted them. They didn't tolerate insubordination, let alone a scathing character assassination delivered to an oil painting. In his world, a mistake meant termination; a betrayal meant disappearance.
So why was she still employed?
She stepped off the train at her station, pulling her wool coat tightly around her against the biting November wind that swept off the East River. The walk to her mother’s small, brick-faced house on 43rd Street took six minutes. Every brick was familiar, every crack in the pavement a landmark of her childhood.
When she unlocked the front door, the warm scent of chamomile tea and lavender immediately wrapped around her.
“Lena?” a soft, melodic voice called from the living room.
Lena closed the door, shaking the rain from her umbrella before stepping into the cozy, cluttered space. Her mother, Clara Roberts, was propped up against a stack of pillows on the sofa, a knitted afghan thrown over her legs, a paperback book resting open in her lap. Even with the gray dusting her temples and the pale exhaustion in her skin, Clara still possessed the bright, gentle eyes that Lena saw in the mirror every morning.
“You’re home late, honey,” Clara said, setting her book aside. “Is everything alright at the office? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Lena forced a reassuring smile onto her face, walking over to press a soft kiss against her mother’s forehead.
“Just a heavy day, Mom. The usual corporate chaos,” Lena lied smoothly, pulling up a chair beside the sofa. “How was your day? Did Nurse Davis come by?”
“She did. We watched an old black-and-white movie and gossiped about the neighborhood,” Clara said, smiling warmly. Then her expression shifted, a flicker of worry crossing her features as she reached out to touch Lena’s hand. “You’re working too hard, sweetheart. That company pays well, yes, but I don't want you sacrificing your life, your health, for a job. If it’s too much... we can look into other options. We manage.”
Lena looked down at her mother’s thin, fragile hand. Other options? Without Kang Meridian’s insurance package and the private monthly stipend Min-jun’s human resources department quietly deposited into her account, her mother’s specialized care would stop within forty-eight hours.
The system was designed to keep people like her trapped. She knew that. But tonight, for the first time, she didn't feel like a trapped victim. She felt... complicated.
“I’m fine, Mom, I promise,” Lena said, squeezing her mother’s hand. “In fact... my boss and I had a rather... interesting conversation today.”
Clara raised an eyebrow, a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Oh? The mysterious Mr. Kang actually spoke to you? I thought he was just a myth your generation invented to explain why billionaires don't sleep.”
“He’s real, unfortunately,” Lena laughed, a genuine sound this time. “And he’s every bit as terrifying as the rumors say. But... he’s also surprisingly observant.”
“Observant men usually make the best leaders,” Clara noted sagely. “Or the most dangerous enemies. Which one is he?”
May you like
Lena stared into the amber glow of the living room lamp, remembering the way Min-jun’s slate-gray eyes had locked onto hers in the dark penthouse.
“I honestly don't know anymore,” Lena whispered.
